


Tidings of Comfort & Joy

by hidingupatreeorsomething



Category: Homeland
Genre: Advent Calendar, Advent Calendar 2017, F/M, s06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 14:18:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12913665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hidingupatreeorsomething/pseuds/hidingupatreeorsomething
Summary: Carrie and Quinn, finding their way through the Christmas before s06. *Wee edit added, another little extra delightful detail just occurred to me around the Peter Rabbit conversation, and I couldn't resist*Posted on December 5 as part of the Advent Calendar.Set just before s06, it supposes s06 kicks off several weeks into January at the earliest, and this is the Christmas just before (I know that might not quite fit with the real timing of the inauguration etc., but hey, it's fiction).Anything related to s06 is going to struggle to be festive, but I thought it'd be a good challenge to write something that could be true to canon, but also bring a few believable glimmers of light to what came next. So this is some reverse-engineering to provide a lighter touch of backstory to some of the details from the first few episodes.If this is still too bittersweet for you, my second Advent Calendar offering on 14 December is a biiig set piece from the On the Shore of the Wide World AU and is more wall-to-wall happy!





	Tidings of Comfort & Joy

_Christmas Eve. Carrie on the bus to the VA. It’s freezing, she’s not quite warm enough despite her winter coat, pulls her collar up against the cold. Butterflies in her stomach. She’s spent most of December wondering what to do about Quinn at Christmas. Feeling like she ought to invite him to hers, but pretty sure he’d refuse, not actually sure she’d want him there, scared of his seizures, his flashbacks, his erratic behaviour._

_Then wondered again and again whether she should go see him on Christmas Day. Would mean leaving Franny with friends for a couple of hours, but that wasn’t impossible._

_Thanksgiving had been easy – Maggie and Bill and the kids had been back home, she and Franny went to visit them, there was no decision to be made. But that only made it worse that she was considering leaving him alone again at Christmas._

_But after a week or more of Quinn virtually ignoring her during her visits, she had finally decided. Leaving her daughter on Christmas Day wasn’t worth it for the sake of an hour of Quinn staring anywhere in the room but at her. Ran it by him and he seemed indifferent, which confirmed her decision._

_Checks her watch as she arrives. He should have finished group, have some free time before dinner._

_She looks in his room. Empty. Walks down the corridor to the dayroom. Looks in the door. He’s sitting, bolt upright, in a chair by the window, staring out. Rocking a little, rhythmically. She goes in, walks over to him._

CARRIE - Hey.

_He looks at her slowly, awakened from a daydream._

_Nods. Speaks barely audibly._

QUINN - Hey.

_Looks back out of the window, intently, as if he’s looking for a mark._

_She fetches another chair, moves it across and puts it by him. Sits. Places a hand gently on his knee._

CARRIE - How you doing?

_He shrugs, face blank. Her stomach flips. Here we go again. She never knows which Quinn she’s going to get. Vacant. Angry. Or that occasional visitor, the gentle, open, vulnerable man who admits his need for her. They can appear by turns, and even though it’s been vacant Quinn on every recent visit, that doesn’t rule out any of the others suddenly turning up out of the blue._

_And so the visit goes like all the others that week. With her trying to make conversation, him ignoring her, or offering abrupt answers. She really never knows whether he’s like this because he doesn’t **want** to converse with her, or because he simply **can’t**. Whether he’s fed up with her, or whether he is, inside, pleased to see her, but the damage to his brain means he struggles to connect, to concentrate on what’s right there in front of him. She tells herself it’s the latter._

_The most response she gets from him comes from the conversation she’s been dreading._

CARRIE - So… tomorrow’s Christmas.

_His rocking stops for a moment, he looks down at the floor, away from her, his head squirms._

You’re gonna get a big dinner here, they said. Then people singing Christmas carols in the lobby. You should go listen. Change in the routine, something a little different.

 _He nods a fraction, still looking away from her, down at the floor, frozen and awkward. There’s a pause. She hears her breaths. Hanging between them, the silence where her offer to come visit him should be. But she thinks of Franny. Thinks of the past 20 minutes she’s spent struggling to connect with him. Breathes_.

CARRIE - We’re just gonna have a quiet day I think. Just the two of us, watch some movies, Skype Maggie and the girls, nothing special.

_He nods again, looks up at the window and resumes his staring, but no rocking this time. He’s very still._

_Eventually she comes up with an excuse to duck out, go to the bathroom, check in with the nurses, just to get a break from the struggle of trying to speak to him._

_When she’s done, heads back to the dayroom. He’s still sitting there, looking out of the window as darkness falls. She stands in the doorway, looking at him, heart breaking for him. Always a solitary man, but now looking more alone than ever, though he seems oblivious to his solitude._

_But her melancholy is cut short - he spots her reflection in the glass and suddenly looks round at her._

_Reaches across to the wall where his crutch is propped up. He keeps trying to persuade the physios he can walk without it, but he's not quite there yet - every time he tries, he stumbles. They tell him another week or two of work and he can get rid of it, and that seems to be his main motivator right now. She wonders what will happen once he can do without it, whether his regular attendance at PT will falter, whether he'll persuade himself that's enough, and give up all together._

_She often r_ _ehearses in her mind the motivational speeches she'll dish out to try and keep him going when he grinds to a halt again. It's_ _happened before - spells of concentration and hard work at his recovery interrupted by a sudden giving up, a tide of hopelessness at the seeming-impossibility of progress, usually covered over with aggression towards anyone who tries_ _to suggest he could improve further._

 _Happened right before he learned to stand again,_ _Quinn hissing across the lobby at her from his wheelchair that he was a fucking cripple, no point pretending otherwise, Carrie biting back angry tears and following him down the corridor with a tirade of slightly aggressive encouragement, as he propelled himself using his good foot on the floor, got caught up on his bedroom door frame trying to get in, both of them locked in frustration trying to get him through before he'd finally gone in and slammed the door in her face._

_She’d been out of town with work for several days after that, but next time she’d arrived at the VA gym, there he was, being hauled to his unsteady feet by the usual three-strong team of physios, clinging onto the parallel bar with his right hand, each of the physios letting go in turn until he balanced, for just a few seconds, on his own two feet._

_Thinking back to it, she feels a pang of love for him, how hard he's had to work, how far he still has to go, as she watches him heave himself to his feet, take a couple of attempts to get his arm into the crutch straight, lean heavily on it, and walk slowly across._

CARRIE - You OK?

_He nods._

Can I walk you back to your room? I can take some laundry home with me.

QUINN - Thanks.

_Not that he ever has much laundry – doesn’t change his clothes as often as he should, even though she’s got him enough of everything to change daily._

_The VA does patients’ laundry, but they lose so much, it comes back smelling institutional, with other people’s socks mixed in and his own missing. Besides, it’s one of the few kindnesses she can do for him that he’ll accept – or at least is indifferent to, doesn’t complain about._

_And, more than all of that, she feels her heart leap every time she pulls out a load of laundry and sees his grey T-shirts twisted around Franny’s dresses, his pants mixed up with her own blouses._

_They head back to his room in silence, when they get there she walks to the closet, opens it and takes a bag of clothes that hangs behind the door._

CARRIE - OK. I’ll get you these back soon. You have your empty laundry bag somewhere?

QUINN - Yeah.

CARRIE - You want me to hang it up here?

QUINN - I’ll do it.

_He’s looking around the room, brow slightly furrowed, as if he’s trying to remember where he put something. She thinks nothing of it. Another train of thought that he’s jumped onto without her._

CARRIE - So I’m gonna head off.

QUINN - Carrie.

CARRIE - Yeah?

_He walks to the drawer by his bed. She’s feeling impatient, she knows there’s a bus leaving soon. He’s slow. Reaches the drawer. Tries to free his arm from his crutch, struggles, swears, Carrie looks at her watch. He props the stick against the wall. Pulls the drawer open. Reaches in. Fumbles a little. Turns around. In his hand, two small parcels, wrapped in Christmas paper. He holds them out, not catching her eye. He shrugs a little, looks shy, diffident._

QUINN - I got… for you and Franny. They’re… there’s not much here. In the….

_He looks for the word, points down the corridor, waves his hand a little…his face creases in frustration…he thinks…_

…the shop.

_She melts._

CARRIE - Quinn… You didn’t have to.

QUINN - I know.

_He holds them out and she takes them. They’re chaotically wrapped, the paper lopsided, tape at weird angles, only just holding the paper on. He’s clearly done it himself, one-handed, even his ‘good’ hand too clumsy to manage easily - struggled, tried, struggled, tried again._

CARRIE - Thank you. Thank you Quinn. That’s so kind. I… I have something for you, but I… I forgot to pick it up as I came out.

_He turns away, shrugs and shakes his head rapidly, stares out of the window.  
_

QUINN - That’s fine.

CARRIE - Quinn…

_She crosses to stand by his side, places a hand gently on his forearm._

…I _do_ have something. I… you never seem that big on Christmas, and you’ve been pretty fed up with me recently. I thought you might get cross if I made a fuss.

_Her mind is racing, suddenly realising how badly she’s miscalculated, how much he wants her to be there tomorrow._

Look. I have Franny tomorrow. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get away. But if I can, I’ll pop in. Bring your gift. I can’t promise. But if I can – would that be OK?

_Without turning round, he nods, surprisingly eagerly._

QUINN - Yeah. Would be good.

_She takes the moment, steps closer to him, rubs his arm gently, and rests her head lightly on his shoulder. To her amazement, he doesn’t pull away, doesn’t even twitch._

CARRIE - Thank you. For the gifts. That’s really kind of you.

_There’s a pause._

_He tilts his head a little towards her, rests his head on the top of hers. They stand, for a long time, both apparently looking out of the window – both in reality looking at each other in the darkened glass._

\----

_Christmas Day. Dinner plates piled up in the kitchen, paper all over the living room, Franny sitting surrounded by new toys and discarded wrapping._

CARRIE - Oh! Franny – I nearly forgot, we have one more gift each.

FRANNY - What? What? What?

CARRIE - From my friend, Peter.

FRANNY - Who’s Peter?

CARRIE - I went to see him yesterday. He gave me these.

_She reaches into her bag, looks at the labels, one name scribbled clumsily on each, nothing else._

This one is yours… _(she hands it over)._ And this one’s for me.

FRANNY - It’s messy.

CARRIE - His hands don’t work very well. He did his best.

_Franny rips the paper off. Inside is a little furry white rabbit, about four inches high._

FRANNY - It’s Hop’s little brother!

CARRIE - Oh, sweet!

_Franny hugs the rabbit into her neck._

FRANNY - What’s yours mommy?

_Carrie peels the paper off carefully. Lifts out the contents. It’s a super-soft woollen scarf. Baby blue – so pale it’s almost white. She’s a little overwhelmed. Rubs it on her cheek. Franny reaches up to touch it._

FRANNY - Let me feel! It’s _really_ soft.

CARRIE - It is.

FRANNY - Put it on!

_She does._

_Carrie snuggles the scarf into her neck, as Franny hugs the bunny into hers._

FRANNY - We both got hugs!

_She grins, realising Franny’s right._

CARRIE - We did. We both got hugs.

_She leans over to the wrapping paper, carefully peels off the labels with Quinn’s laboured, uneven writing on it, and slides them into her pocket for keeps._

Franny…

FRANNY - Yeah?

CARRIE - If Janie’s mommy says it’s OK, do you want to go play with her for a little bit?

FRANNY - Yes! Can I show her my presents?

CARRIE - Sure, honey, just a couple. Choose two small ones while I call Sarah.

\---

_Back on the bus to the VA. Baby blue scarf around her neck. Not sure what she’ll find when she gets there. Whether he’ll be in the mood to welcome her or not._

_She walks through the door into the lobby – the choir are standing there singing, the lobby full of people, looking on happily. As she steps around a knot of people, ready to head for Quinn’s room, she does a double take – there he is, sat in the lobby too._

_Unlike the other guests, who are joined by their families, he sits alone in the corner, an empty chair beside him. It should be a sad sight, but… his eyes are closed, he’s listening intently, looks remarkably at peace. His head is moving a little in time with the music, almost as if he’s conducting in his head, his eyebrows rising and falling, expressions she’s never seen before fliting quickly across his face as the harmonies swell and recede._

_She remembers one of his therapists telling her how well he responded to music, how they were using it in his therapy. She’d found it impossible to believe, until she’d recalled a day in Berlin, in the early days of his wakefulness, when he was still half-there, half-not. A particularly beautiful, stirring tune had come on the radio, and his eyes suddenly moved for the first time that day, searching out the source of the music, gazing intently towards it for the duration of the song, as if it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard. Then, as it had finished, he’d turned to Carrie, and looked right at her, smiled, as if amazed that they’d shared something as extraordinary as the sound of that song. It was the first time since the stroke that she’d been sure he’d looked at her and really seen her. For all the things it had taken away from him, the brain damage had unlocked in him some kind of profound, emotional connection to music._

_She'd gone straight out when the therapist told her that, and bought him a small radio for his room at the VA. She sometimes saw it sitting on his bed, right by his pillow, and realised he must listen to it in the night, when there was no other sound than his dreams - a source of company, of comfort, of safety, and of transport to a better place than this.  
_

_So she walks across and sits next to him, stays there quietly until the music finishes, half watching the chorus, half watching Quinn as he moves, sways, and weaves. As the music fades, he sits back in the chair, eyes still closed, a faint smile on his face. Not sure what will startle him least, she places her hand gently over his. He opens his eyes suddenly, and looks round. His surprised, open face, takes her in._

CARRIE - Hey.

_He blinks a few times. She can’t decide if he’s blinking back tears. It kind of looks like it, but surely not?_

QUINN - H-h-h-

_He’s overwhelmed. The crowds, the beautiful music - Carrie. Stutters to a halt._

…oh…

_He takes a breath._

…H-h-h. Oh. Hey.

\----

_They follow the crowds into the dayroom. There’s a tree, decorations everywhere, an orderly handing out glasses of non-alcoholic punch, family groups dotted about, laughing and joking, children running around.  
_

_They file in, Carrie takes them a glass each, and they find the last remaining seats, side by side on a sofa. There’s enough hubbub that they don’t really have to speak. She’s relieved. And surprised when he sparks up a conversation._

QUINN - You… I thought you’d be with Franny.

CARRIE - I was. She’s with a friend for a couple of hours.

_She looks at him._

I wanted to see you.

_He gives her a lopsided smile, looks shyly at his lap for a moment, then back at her._

_Points and nods at her scarf._

QUINN - You… like…?

_He nods at it. She places a hand on it._

CARRIE - It’s beautiful, Quinn. So beautiful, I love it. Thank you. And Franny loves her bunny. That was really kind of you.

QUINN - I thought... all kids like b-b-b... _(Fuck's sake. He winces)_ rabbits, right?

CARRIE - Yup. Especially Franny. Did I tell you that already?

_He shakes his head._

QUINN - I figured. Me too. Peter Rabbit. When I was a kid.

CARRIE - Well, he has a great name.

QUINN - He does.

_They both smile._

_A momentary pause._

QUINN - It’s… where I got it.

CARRIE - Got…?

QUINN - Peter. When I… had to... change my name. Always liked Peter Rabbit.

_She shakes her head quickly at him, disbelieving, starting to smile._

CARRIE - Wait.

You’re…

What, you’re **_named_ ** after _**Peter** **Rabbit**_?

_He looks away, grins, his cheeks flush, he’s amused, embarrassed, delighted all at once._

_Looks back at her with a twinkle in his eye that she hasn’t seen for a long, long time._

QUINN - I guess I am.

CARRIE – Well holy shit.

_They both smile._

_She suddenly remembers._

Oh! I brought you…

_She delves into her bag and brings out a large, beautifully-wrapped gift._

I really did get you a gift, I wasn’t kidding.

QUINN - Oh. It’s… huge.

_She places it in his lap._

_He slides his finger under the tape, she holds the parcel still for him as he works away at it, discretely helping unwrap one end to make it easier. He folds back the paper. Folded neatly inside is a navy blue hoodie, with a thick, fleecy grey lining._

CARRIE - It’s… nothing special. But it’s always kind of drafty in here, and you never have enough layers on. I thought it’d keep you warm.

QUINN - It’s… it’s great, thank you.

_He feels the fleece inside._

It’s… soft.

CARRIE - You wanna put it on?

_He nods._

Here.

_She reaches up and helps him, and he doesn’t resist, he threads it over his left hand and then for a moment doesn't quite know what to do - actually lets her take his paralysed hand - that hasn't happened in a **long** time - and hold it up gently while he wriggles into the hoodie, hooks his right arm in. She places his hand softly back in his lap and he pulls the hoodie around himself, snuggles into it._

CARRIE - When we opened our gifts, Franny said you gave us each a hug. I guess I got you a hug too.

QUINN - You did.

CARRIE - You can have a hug from me every time you wear it. Same as me and my scarf.

_He wriggles his shoulder and arm cosily in the hoodie. Thinks he’ll never take it off. Feels warmer than he has in a long time, and it’s not just the extra layer. He can’t look her in the eye as he says it, stares at the floor, but manages…_

QUINN - I…I… love it. Thank you.

CARRIE - I'm glad. You're not easy to buy for.

QUINN - I'm sorry.

_She half smiles at him. Wonders if that was maybe a bigger sorry than just being a tough man to shop for. But he's looking the other way - which only adds to her suspicion that he was talking about something a little closer to the bone._

_They sit, side by side for a while, accept top-ups of the punch, join in with a little kid who’s bouncing a balloon around the place, batting it back and forth a few times._

_They’re still sitting, looking out across the room, when he suddenly starts to speak again. She realises that the absence of eye contact is helping and resists the temptation to turn around and look at him._

QUINN - You know… I… when I…

_He waves his hand a little._

QUINN - When I don’t…

_He stops._

QUINN - When I don’t…

CARRIE - Talk?

_He nods._

QUINN - Talk. I’m still really glad.

CARRIE - To see me?

_He nods._

CARRIE - I know. I know.

_She feels a wave of joy. She's suddenly so fucking happy. There they are, the two of them, like everyone else in the room - ordinary people, opening gifts, soaking up the atmosphere, enjoying one another’s company. Knows she’ll always remember this moment. Whenever he’s difficult, angry, distant, doesn’t want to see her, will know that he’s… still really glad._

_She reaches across and places her arm around his shoulders, wonders for a split second if that was the right thing to do - then he leans in and rests his head on her._

CARRIE – Happy Christmas, Quinn.

QUINN – Happy Christmas, Carrie.

_They sit, wrapped in one anothers’ hugs, as Christmas unfolds happily all around them._


End file.
